A Slice of the Pie of Life

The First Day of School0

“A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.” -Lao Tzu

Have you ever just sat watching on the first day of school?

You see the obnoxious kid from your sophomore seminar, too smart for his own good. The girl who lived down the hall that you know is the next Bill Gates, the world just has to catch up with her. The quiet guy who roomed near your boyfriend a few years back; you never knew each other enough to say hi, so you have one of those relationships where you just smile. The class clown, the rebel rouser, the girl who never seems to grow up and the person with whom you still regret it didn’t work out. The secret summer crush who you only met a few times, but you kept tabs on through various mutual friends and internet “resources.”

The freshman run to class weighed down by prerequisites and their newly purchased $600 worth of books. Sophomores strut, convinced they are the smartest, mostly because they are not freshman anymore. Juniors walk with more direction, assured by their freshly padded summer resumes and upcoming abroad experiences – the world is at their feet. And seniors confidently swagger up College Ave., giving off an air of authority, as they’ve walked these streets many times before; but secretly, they could be more nervous than the freshman, for they’ll be walking somewhere very different this time next year.

The formal dates, the best friends and the thousands of faces you don’t recognize – they each have their own story.

And meanwhile, I just sit here watching them all go past.

No, I’m not being creepy. My classes don’t start until tomorrow.

This senior year thing doesn’t seem so bad after all.

Posted: Cornellia, Musings, Senior Shenanigans

An Ode to Uris Library0

“The true university these days is a collection of books.” -Thomas Carlyle

Sometimes when I’m up late at night,

Trying to finish that paper I’ve got to write,

I get a longing for a certain place,

A location with the perfect study space.

I’m here in the Federal City,

With access to the volumes of Georgetown University,

I’ve even got the LOC,

But that, too, is dead to me,

When I think of Uris Library.

Call me a nerd, if you like,

But there’s no hotter place on a week night,

Than the Kinkeldey Room or Tower Cafe,

To hit up the social scene of the day.

The Greeks, the Geeks, the Girls, the Guys,

They come in ever shape and size,

To digest calculus, genetics and Voltaire,

In the A.D White Room or Cocktail Lounge – they’ll find a chair,

And a sweatshirt and jeans is what they’ll wear.

Or if you like, you can hide in the stacks,

Shelves and books, this libe doesn’t lack.

Have a big research paper due in a class?

The reference librarians will help you pass.

Need a cozy corner for an afternoon rest?

Naps in Uris are always the best.

But even if Uris is not your place,

No worries my friends, don’t lose face,

I’m sure one of the other 19 CU libraries will fit your taste.

Posted: Musings

Office Space0

“I was told that I could listen to the radio at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven, I told Bill that if Sandra is going to listen to her headphones while she’s filing then I should be able to listen to the radio while I’m collating so I don’t see why I should have to turn down the radio because I enjoy listening at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven.” -Milton

For many of my friends and I, the past few months has offered an introduction to cubicle life. This summer was my first personal experience working in a cubicle. I’ve heard the legend and lore of cubicle life, but I never really believed any of the rumors – or saw the comedy – of it until I experienced eight hour work days in a grey box first hand.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a spacious area to myself with a window view – pretty good for an intern. But after only a few hours on my first day, I found my office “walls” were no more than a few strings of yarn held together that wouldn’t keep a yawn private.

I’m sure the cause of most office drama on this Earth can be traced to cubicle eavesdropping. Forget wiretapping, if the government made cubicles a national standard for every office, the Patriot Act would be child’s play. Cubicles are the ideal location for knowing too much. And even if you lack interest in the personal or professional life of the inhabitants of the surrounding cubicles, it is inevitable you’ll find out more than you ever wanted to know about anyone sitting within a radius of 100 feet.

But what was funny to me was that people didn’t realize that their “walls” were actually wire tapped microphone loudspeakers to the rest of the office. Case in point – the Fran Drescher loud talkers of the world who were born with voice volume on high. These are the people that simply tell too much and necessitate what Alyssa, the Creative Manager where I was an intern, dubbed “I-pod days” – as in the only way to try to think was to blast Journey. She warned me, “But wait until you meet Tony.”

I also had the privilege of making cubicle friends. I couldn’t tell you what they look like if my life depended on it. However, I would recognize their voice like that of my own Mother. These are the folks you hear talking all day, but you never see their face. They are polite, following your sneezes with a “Bless you” or, “Hope you feel better soon.” You might strike up a conversation with your cubicle friend, “Great weather today,” and “Yeah, I heard it’ll be sunny all week!” But you’re never really sure if they see the sun.

And then, one day, there was a different voice. I hoped for a new cubicle friend, and I guess that is what I received . . . in a way. This new person sounded friendly, and I could tell because he had the loudest voice had I ever heard. And not only that, he answered ever call, “Hi, hello, this is Tony,” and if it was an important phone call, “Hi, hello, this is Tony (person responds). Hi, hellllooo, how are you doing?” Wow, I thought, now there is a friendly salutation. I never knew a person could fit that many greetings into one phone call.

I asked Alyssa later that day, “Is that Tony?” She laughed and nodded yes. I wondered what Tony looked like – he had a voice that sounded bigger than Yao Ming. However, I knew an NBA Star could never fit behind those furry five foot walls. For days, I waited. And finally, one day, I heard him move from out of his cubicle. I raced around the corner of my desk to find out the true identity of Mr. Cubicle Mystery Man.

I was greeted more by a tiny Muggsy Bogues type who smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Tony.”

“Hello, I’m Nikki, one of the interns.”

Throughout my remaining weeks at work, Tony was one of the nicest and friendliest people to me. Tony was a social worker, and I knew through my non “I-pod days” his job with mentally handicapped and disabled individuals was not an easy one. Nevertheless, he always greeted me with a warm “Hi, hello!” This, in turn, always made me smile.

I think the old euphemism should be changed for cubicles from, “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” to, “Don’t judge Fran Drescher by her voice.” Because, after all, cubicle friends may even become real friends.

Posted: Musings

The People You Meet On The Streets0

“Washington is a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm.” -JFK

I’m pretty excited for my friend Matt who was recently featured in BusinessWeek. Part of his work as a marketing intern this summer included helping homeless people try to become more profitable in their panhandling expeditions. Matt and I became good friends last spring break when we both stayed at Cornell to give tours while everyone else was working on their tans. We bonded over delicious dinners and shopping for deals on jcrew.com (as Matt is one of the most fashionable young gentleman I know). So I’m sure working on this project was quite an experience for him.

During the ten years I’ve lived in Ohio, I think I’ve seen about one homeless person within a 15 mile radius of my home. Now that I live in DC, panhandlers are a daily part of life. I’m not sure if this is a good or bad thing. Seeing a homeless person in Hudson would warrant a quadruple take, but now I take this sight in step with the rest of my day.

In reality, I don’t have the financial means to help each person or the time to hear each of their stories; and although most people are pretty harmless, I probably shouldn’t be BFF (best friends forever) with them all. However, I think a lot of people wonder about panhandlers – their mental state, their abilities, their stories – what they do with their money and where they actually call “home” at night.

I find that I see the same homeless people in pretty much the same spots everyday. However, there is one man who I always find particularly entertaining. I’m not sure of his name, so we’ll call him Harold.

Everyday I walk out of Union Station, I see Harold sitting on a park bench. Harold has his shopping cart next to him filled with various goods, including a world globe that always sits on top. If he is feeling particularly generous, he might feed the pigeons Mary Poppins style. Harold greets everyone who walks past him. If it’s a Wednesday, he’ll say to me, “Good morning miss, three days ’till the weekend!” To the man behind me, he’ll call, “Hi sir, three days ’till the weekend!”

Since I lack experience interacting with people of this nature, the first few days Harold talked to me, I quickly looked the other way. After a week or so, I realized he was pretty harmless and smiled at him when he addressed me. And now, I usually say good morning too.

If it’s a rainy Monday, Harold will be decked out in a garbage bag, see my yellow rain slicker and call out, “Hello lady in yellow, five days ’till the weekend!” And trust me, on a rainy Monday in the District, he wins the vote for friendliest guy around.

Matt, if you want, I have your next customer.

Posted: Fall 2006, Musings

The Beginning0

“Why don’t you just open it for me . . . ” -Mom, when trying to give her the web address for my blog

I knew it was a bad sign when Mimi’s e-mail read, “Your Mom said that you’re getting a picture taken with Griffey. But she said she’d tell us what it was for later.” Mimi, my Grandmother, is the most electronically hip and tech savvy 73 year old around. She e-mails, she creates graphics, she makes cards, she surfs, she knows blogs – basically she understands everything about computers.

So, what “she’d tell us . . . later” meant, was my Mom didn’t really know why I was having my picture taken. She knew it was for a “blugg” or “bloog” or something like that, but she really didn’t know what that signified. My Mom, you see, inherited a number of Mimi’s wonderful characteristics, but she didn’t really get the “tech savvy” chromosone. However, when I told her I needed a prop for the picture, I asked her to brainstorm with me (she did). When Girffey became my “prop,” I asked her to get him ready for his trek up to Cornell with Dad (she did) and to make sure he would greet Cornell in style – with his Cornell doggy bandana (she did that too).

I tell this story for several reasons. First, it brings up the topic of blogging, which is clearly very relevant to this space. This is my first time blogging. So, much like my Mom, I may hit a few speed bumps along the merry blogging way. However, like my Mom, I hope to pursue this concept of a “blog” with the utmost dedication. I think this type of forum is a wonderful addition to the Cornell Community. I also hope it well serves prospective students and anyone else who may find themselves on this page.

Blogging is a great means of communication in that it is interactive. I mean, I could have a pretty nice soap box here – but you get to shoot your ideas and comments back at me – something that is not always so immediatley available or displayed in other types of exchange. There is instant gratification in this information age; I make a post, everyone can see it immediatley. This also means possible instant fallout. For example, if I accidentally left my account logged in and someone made the background a picture of me waking up at 5 am – I promise you, even Mimi may struggle to read this all.

This also suggests the question of content. The purpose of the Student Blogging Project is to help achieve Vice President Tommy Bruce’s goal of “telling the Cornell story.” When I told my Aunt Cathy about my blog, she asked, “So does that mean you’ll write about everything – like if you go on a date?” I’ll tell you all right now, my life is no National Enquirer cover story waiting to happen. However, I’ll promise you I’m going to be as honest, open, and interesting as possible. I’ll also try to answer any of your questions or respond to your comments. You too have a role in regards to the form this blog will take. I promise you misspellings – my Achilles’ heal since first grade – probably a few grammatical errors: but hopefully not too many, and some entertaining substance as well. I tend to be a pretty private person about certain aspects of my life, so some things you may just not know. But if I ever go on my dream date with one of the James Bonds (preferably with Sir Sean or Pierce Brosnan) I might fess up to it.

So that’s it. Ready, set, blog. My Mom said a few weeks ago, “I call you a blogger now . . . right?”

Yeah Mom, I guess that’s true.

Posted: Musings